


Sex, Interrupted

by TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite



Series: Sam Winchester Reader-inserts [46]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Period Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Menstruation, Sam being a sweetheart, idk where this fic came from but here it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-03-09 14:00:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18918448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite/pseuds/TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite
Summary: Sex with Sam doesn't go quite as planned.Betaed by @manawhaat





	Sex, Interrupted

Sam’s huge body blankets yours, hips pressed tight to your pelvis as he rocks against you. His arms bracket your shoulders so he doesn’t crush you with his weight. You, on the other hand, can’t get close enough. Your hands explore the muscles of his torso and your ankles are hooked together behind his back, all of your body trying desperately to be closer to his.

“Fuck,” Sam gasps, ducking his head down to kiss you. “Wanna see you ride me.”

You grin, shoving gently at his chest. “Then roll over, big guy.”

He chuckles, a low sound that never gets old, and rolls off of you. You follow, sitting up to straddle his thighs. The lust in the air is instantly snatched away when you suddenly feel that all-too-familiar gush of wetness that is  _ definitely _ not arousal. Body clenched as tight as possible, your stomach twists when you feel the drop of it slipping out of you. Your eyes go wide and you freeze instinctively, a rush of panic and embarrassment hitting you right in the chest.

“Y/N?” Sam asks, one hand sliding up your thigh. “Everything okay?”

“I’m so sorry,” you whimper, voice catching in your throat. Your eyes sting with the threat of tears. “I.. fuck, I’m sorry, I should’ve paid better attention-”

“Hey, hey.” Sam sits up on one elbow, reaching for your face with his other hand. “What are you talking about?”

Your eyes flick down involuntarily and Sam’s eyes follow.

“Oh,” he says. “That’s okay, sweetheart. It’s not like you can help it, right?”

You manage a small nod, one hand flying up to cover your mouth as you fight back a sob. It’s humiliating, no matter how understanding Sam is being. You know he has to be disgusted by a glob of dark red that’s starting to drip down his cock- the most recent addition to the smears on the condom. At least he's  _ wearing _ a condom. Not that it does much good when you can see more blood on the sheets where you were lying previously

“Hey.” Sam sits up, wrapping his arm around your waist. “Y/N. Don’t cry, baby. It’ll come out in the wash. Tell me what you want. Do you want to keep going?”

You shake your head, a tear escaping before you can stop it. Sam gently wipes it away with one thumb.

“Okay. That’s okay. How about you go do what you need to do while I clean up in here?”

Another small nod, unable to contain a sob when you feel more blood escape.

He kisses your forehead before stretching one hand down to the end of the bed where you abandoned your robe earlier. He helps guide your arms into the sleeves and then ties it closed.

“There you go,” he murmurs. “Go do your thing. I’ll be here.”

You scramble from the bed, waddling across the room as fast as you can with your thighs clenched together to grab clean underwear from your drawer before ducking into the attached bathroom you’re suddenly extra thankful for. You lock the door behind you even though you know Sam’s not going to come in without permission and turn the shower on. Once the noise fills the room, you shed your robe and pretty much collapse onto the toilet as the tears really start falling.

You’re not sure how long you sit there but the room is starting to fill with steam when you feel ready to move to the shower. The warm water feels amazing on your skin, soothing the tightness in your shoulders and the stinging in your closed eyes.

The tears keep falling and you hide under the water until your fingers are so pruney they itch - thank Chuck for magical water heaters because the shower is still warm. Only then do you focus on cleaning up, scrubbing at your skin until the evidence of what happened is as gone as it’s going to get and you know you can’t hide much longer. You stall just a few minutes more, taking the opportunity to wash your hair, but you will have to face Sam at some point.

You reluctantly turn off the shower and step out, snatching your towel up to quickly dry your body. You grab what you need from under the counter, toss the wrapper in the trash, and finally pull on your underwear - simple cotton in a dark color, one of the pairs you reserve specifically for this time of the month.

A soft knock at the door startles you from your thoughts. “Yes?” you call, wrapping your arms around your bare breasts as your hair drips onto your shoulders.

“Y/N?” Sam responds, a little tentative. “I have some pajamas you can put on, if you want them.”

You almost start crying again but you manage to hold back the tears and open the door enough for Sam to stick one hand through. You accept the pile of clothes with a quiet “thank you” before locking the door again.

When you shake the clothes out, you realize he picked your favorites for when you need to feel comfy- one of his grey long-sleeve shirts, the extra soft ones you like to rub your cheek against, and a pair of black sweats, also his. The clothes are definitely too big on you but the feeling of drowning in your boyfriend’s clothes and scent go a long way to soothing the anxious ache in your chest.

You draw in a deep breath before unlocking the door and opening it.

Sam is sitting on the end of the bed, studying his hands intently. He’s dressed in another pair of dark sweats but his chest and feet are bare, and you notice he changed the sheets to the black ones you always pull out for these weeks specifically. You’ve never told him why - Sam’s just that observant.

He looks up when you appear and shoots to his feet. “Y/N,” he whispers, opening his arms. “C’mere, sweetheart.”

You fall into his chest, fighting back more tears. Sam holds you tight and strokes your hair, murmuring soothing words.

“I’m sorry,” you sniff. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been more careful. I understand if you-”

“Don’t you even think about finishing that sentence,” Sam interrupts, squeezing you gently. “I’m not disappointed. I’m not disgusted. I don’t think you’re gross or dirty or whatever other terrible things your brain is coming up with. I think you’re a normal human woman whose body does what almost every other woman’s body does, and tonight the timing just wasn’t ideal. This isn’t the first time it’s happened to someone and it won’t be the last. That’s just life. Sometimes things happen that we have absolutely no control over.”

“But-”

“No buts.” He kisses your damp hair. “This isn’t even the first time this has happened to me.”

You finally lift your head to look at him. “It’s not?”

Sam smiles fondly, cradling your head in one huge hand, and looking you right in the eye. “It happened with Jess- more than once. She was mortified and I understand why, but I told her exactly what I’m telling you: It’s. Not. Your. Fault.”

The knot in your chest loosens at those words, at the absolute sincerity in his voice. He’s right. It’s not your fault. It’s embarrassing, that’s for sure, but it’s nothing you can control.

“These things happen,” you say quietly.

He nods and presses a kiss to your forehead. “These things happen. Now take your painkillers before your cramps set it, drink some water, and come lie down with me. I have to cuddle my girl until she feels better.”

You happily obey his instructions before letting him guide you to snuggle against him beneath the covers. His body is warm and solid against your own, his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek. Your hair is probably cold on his skin but he never complains. After all, it’s not your fault.


End file.
